Adventures in Neverland
by SkyKissed
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, not every moment spent in an insane god child's personal playland is full of adventure and excitement. Sometimes it's just dull. And the Captain always makes certain it's annoying. Series of Hook/Queen related snippets.


**A/N: **Pointless little scenes/mini adventures in Neverland. Usually silly and mostly fluffy. Usually focused on the group, but sometimes not. Primarily Hook/Queen centric but there are others too. XD They're just...snapshots, mostly. Feel free to leave a word or scenario if there's something you'd be interested in seeing.

* * *

**Fashion**

* * *

She's cold. The thought at first registers absently in the back of her head, a niggling suspicion as they begin their trek from the shore. She's ever so _slightly_ chill, her blazer designed more for political meetings than adventures in mythical jungles; that their brief jaunt on the Jolly Roger has left her more ocean water than human hardly helps matters. Regina is cold but she imagines it will get better. From the looks of things Neverland is still temperate, perhaps tropical, and almost certainly warmer than Storybrooke.

The niggling thought becomes something more invasive. The longer they walk the more she realizes she made a mistake in her choice of apparel. The blouse is too thin, the blazer too constrictive and her boots, while undeniably stylish, are shoddy footwear for navigating the uneven terrain. Her feet ache, throbbing miserably in a desperate attempt to catch her attention.

The Imp had the right idea with his little fashion show, much as it pains her to admit.

She sits on her makeshift bed with her foot in her lap, attempting to look as dignified as humanly possible as she works out the kinks. It isn't possible. She knows this even as she scowls, dipping her head and pretending she doesn't notice the way the others look at her. The Charmings...it's pity, she imagines, still stinking of all their self righteous, pompous, virtue. Somehow worse because her it leaves her feeling like a rebellious child. Emma at least is largely indifferent. Swan is content, looking rather at home amidst the woods. She's shed her jacket, looks a little wild, too young. It suits her, as much as anything can suit the troublesome woman. More than anything, for however emotional disturbed she may be, she appears physically comfortable.

Regina envies that. At the moment, she'd consider killing for it. Lost Boy. Companion. She isn't feeling horribly picky.

"How the mighty have fallen."

She stiffens immediately, inwardly sighing. Of course. He would be there. The pirate is leaned idly against a tree, that seemingly infinite flask of rum dangling precariously from his grasp. If she's honest, she's not surprised by his appearance. If he isn't skulking around Emma he's here. Pestering her. As he does. Regina huffs, turning her attention pointedly back to her foot, "Excuse me?"

"I was referring to your situation, dearest. The Evil Queen, scourge of kingdoms," he clucks his tongue, stepping towards her and shaking his head as if in mourning, "Felled by ill fitted footwear."

She purses her lips, stilling in her ministrations, "That's an exaggeration."

"Is it, love?"

"Yes."

He smirks, extending a hand to her, "Then you wouldn't mind walking the perimeter with me, surely?"

She feels something like shame the idea of something so simple, so easy as walking the short distance around the camps makes the entirety of her body pull painfully tight, wincing. As if in warning, her foot throbs more violently, every beat of her heart reminding her exactly where her stubbornness has gotten her. With offended dignity, the woman rises to her feet, brushing stray bits of debris off her trousers. Regina holds her head arrogantly high, "I could if I wanted."

"Of course, majesty." Hook smirks down at her, regarding her properly for the first time in the whole of their escapade. His brows pulls together somewhat, curious, and he takes another step forward. There's a little wonder written across his features as he closes the distance. For her part, she feels a slight irritation (not concern, not discomfort). In the whole of their knowing one another it's the first time she's stood in front of him without the protection of her heels. A simple, trivial, thing but she finds herself missing the artificial height as the Pirate stares her down.

He's taller than she remembers and she suddenly feels very small, delicate. It is a new sensation and not one she revels in. His breath is lightly tinged with rum, lips pulling into a thin line as he stops in front of her, tying his flask to his belt,"To be perfectly honest, I find I much preferred your old taste in clothes, love."

"Suddenly you're a connoisseur?"

"Of loveliness? Perhaps. I prefer to think I simply have a talented eye," he frowns at her blazer and the accompany leggings, plucking at the fabric idly with his good hand as if he finds it particularly distasteful, "Can't be comfortable for you either."

"A far second to my appearance, surely."

He chuckles, dipping his head somewhat, the blue of his eyes always more evident in these moments. It's difficult to stay properly mad at him when he is so...agreeable and she finds this only frustrates her more. "Very far indeed. But something to take into consideration."

"Your opinion is duly noted, pirate."

Hook offers her a little half bow before turning away, returning to whatever business he'd been tending to before finding her. Stalking the Swan, most likely. For a brief moment, Regina stares after him, lips pursed and her thoughts warring. She settles down, pulling her opposite foot into her lap. She glares at it. Glares after him. The bastard has a point and that nettles her more than she's willing to admit. She hears him call out from across the camp, too much mischief and amusement lacing his tone, "Long walks ahead of us yet, majesty. Make your peace if you must."

Someone chuckles and it takes a good portion of her strength not to turn him to ash.

* * *

**LOST**

* * *

Pan gives them a map. What he neglects to give them, however, is a compass. How this escapes the attention of the little demon boy is beyond him but he's _long _since given up fathoming Pan's motives. He's also given up navigating this jungle (which, he would like the record to show, he'd been against entering in the first place). It's dark and winding and they've long since lost their way, regardless of his natural sense of direction. The map is significantly less useful when they have no idea where on it they might be. Or what direction they should be heading. Or...anything, really.

In fact, without a compass, it's all rather a moot point.

Which has, in some impossible turn of fate, somehow become his fault.

The logic positively baffles him.

Hook stares in a mixture of amusement and horror as the two women round on him in perfect unison, a damn study in opposites, one so miserably dark and the other pale, their expressions eerily similar. The lips are curled back in furious snarls that remind him implicitly of a pair of hunting dogs. Given their respective temperaments and general penchant for violence, he doesn't doubt they'd be just as liable to devour him as the beasts. Perhaps more so. He takes the slightest step back.

Emma jabs him in the chest, "Of all the idiotic things you've done…"

"Ah," Hook finds himself smirking despite it all, holding his hands up for peace as she backs him into one of the many over sized trees. He levels a single finger at her as if pointing out a key element, "And remember that is a long and varied list, love, before you go making wild exaggerations…"

She continues on unphased, her blue eyes flaring violently in the dim light. She's undeniably lovely, he must admit, all icy pallor and the wavy, golden, hair flying about her face. Were she not in the mood to skewer him he might admire such a sight. Emma is nearly growling, "..._this _is the worst."

He huffs, "I'd say that's something of an overstatement. I left you to die. Often."

The dark Queen takes a step closer, those dark eyes too reminiscent of the fire she seems so eager to conjure of late. He holds up his hands for peace but it appears to fall on deaf ears. She's pushing forward again, her voice steadily gaining in volume, "If we are unable to find my son because of your stupidity…"

They're speaking over each other now. It's then that he reasons he may very well be in trouble. They've united. Those two words resonate within him in the most foreboding way, leaving the sort of feeling he experiences only just before a particularly impressive storm. They've united and he finds himself wishing they were back at each others throats. At least then it kept them from his. Swan presses a hand to her forehead, glaring at him. She taps the compass on the map irritably,"You're a _Captain_. Aren't you...contractually obligated to carry one of these around?"

"Oi. In case the pair of you harpies haven't noticed, I'm down a hand. And with you so eager to be off gallivanting in the jungle, I found myself a bit rushed for time."

"You had enough _time _to grab the rum."

"And doesn't it seem more appealing by the second?"

Emma jabs him again, "If we don't find Henry because of this…" she throws the scowling woman beside her a final look. Wordlessly, the the two seem to convene, a dark pleasure spreading over their features, "Then I'm going to let Regina deal with you. And she has a pretty singular way of dealing with problems."

Her smile is wicked, dripping poison as fire jumps to life in her palm, "If it isn't broke, Miss Swan..."

Just like that they are off, all frustration and swinging hips and dangerously high (and horribly ill conceived) heels. The Queen pauses long enough to shoot him a final glare but it seems their business is concluded. Hook stares after them for a long moment, unsure of how to proceed or even how to handle such a situation. It seems positively surreal. He sighs, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to withdraw a familiar flask. Already half empty. His voice is low as he takes a long swig.

"Something tells me I'm going to need more of this." Much more.

* * *

**INJURY**

* * *

He's bleeding. It's nothing serious but he's bleeding, the ugly gash spanning the width of his palm. Regina frowns, quickly glancing around them. This is typically Emma's territory and she's surprised the other woman has not jumped at the opportunity to play nurse. Hook's back is to them as he grunts lowly, attempting to hide his troubles. From the hunch of his shoulders she can see he is meeting something less than success.

She has never been noted as a particularly loving woman, certainly not merciful or tender, but she is protective of what she claims as her own. Their little group is not always friendly and she would be more than happy to dispose of any of them but...they are _hers_, she supposes. They are hers to keep and hers to kill if the mood takes her. That is the reason she goes to him. That's what the little voice in her head whispers.

"You're just going to injure yourself."

Hook watches with naked suspicion as she settles beside him, her air that of with offended dignity as she takes his hand in her own. It really is a sight. The tear in the flesh is jagged and ugly, caked with mud and various other bits of gore, bleeding liberally. The sickening, warm, liquid coats her fingers and she frowns, glancing about for something to stem the blood flow.

He shakes his head, "Afraid we're short in the way of bandages, my dear."

"Were you just intending to bleed out?"

"It would have been unexpected way to go, you must admit."

She shrugs out of her jacket. The material is softer than his own anyway. Careful to keep her expression superior, she holds it out to him, nodding towards his hook. Never one to question a good thing, he shreds it without question, hacking out suitable strips. She chooses one, pouring a liberal bit of water over the fabric before jerking his hand back to her.

Hook lets out a hiss of breath as it meet his skin, "Can't work any of your magic?"

"Healing was never really my specialty," she mumbles, careful to keep from grinding any debris further into the injury. Satisfied with her work, she begins wrapping his hand. He scowls again, jerking away from her and getting nowhere fast.

"Demoness."

"Are you surprised?"

He doesn't respond. There is an odd note of puzzlement turning his features as he watches her work. The blue eyes are almost fascinated as she winds the cloth around his hand, tight but never to the point that it will restrict his movement. It's a practiced dance and one she manages perfectly. He flexes his fingers, testing them, as she ties the makeshift bandage off. "You are...remarkably practiced."

"I'm a mother. It comes with the territory."

"I suppose it does," he tries his hand again, smiling wanly at the results. He'll be lucky if he makes it out without a scar but it's better than the alternative. There's no risk of bleeding out. No infection. Yes, it's better. Hook tilts his head, gaze sliding over her smoothly, perhaps more approvingly than typical. "And a good one, regardless of what most might think."

"You haven't seen enough to judge."

"Oh, I've seen all I need, love," he stands, extending his hand to her. She takes it a little numbly, staring at where his fingers have curled around her wrist. The pirate offers her a smirk and a little half bow, squeezing briefly before he pulls away, "My thanks for the hand, Regina."

* * *

**MORNING**

* * *

The morning and night do not hold the same sway in Neverland, passing however they please. Though they are caught in an infinite summer, it is the nights which dominate, lasting hours longer than their fairer twin. They wander in the dark longer than she cares to admit and by the end of it Regina's body hums with a dull sort of exhaustion.

She's kept herself in reasonably impressive shape of the years, vanity demanding it, but her Mayoral duties had not included rigorous treks through the hills. Her body is unaccustomed to the exertion and for the first time since Henry's abduction she wishes to sleep. Her bed seems too far away to miss. Anywhere will work.

They don't leave the jungle. That will be some time off. There's only a little glen, mercifully clear of the twisting, winding trees which tower around them. The darkness above them is finally wearing thing, the sky tinged with bright pinks and red. The group seems to wordlessly agree this is where they will stop; after what they've been through over the night they are too exhausted to argue. With that in mind, it's both better and easier not to speak.

When she closes her eyes to sleep it does not come. Her mind is still running, still fragmented and reeling from the days events. Regardless of the fact that her body is physically worn to its breaking point she feels as if...something is missing. As if she should be doing more. The strange sensation of impotence leaves her turning, eventually chasing her from her bed.

In an attempt to garner some good faith, Hook has again volunteered to take first watch. The pirate sits beside the small fire he's manage to coax to life and is apparently cooking something over it. Regina isn't entirely certain she wants to know _what_. With a heavy sigh, she takes a seat beside him. If she isn't mistaken, his lips twitch up in something almost like a smile.

She frowns, glancing up at the sky. For all her disdain for this place she cannot deny its beauty. The pinks and red bleed into one another, tinged now by a vibrant orange. There are clouds but only whispers of them, enough to catch the light prettily but not distort it. The woman shifts, reaching a hand out towards the fire, adding just a hint of magic, breathing new life into the stuttering mass, "Can't remember the last time I saw a sunrise."

"Missing out, love," he sighs contentedly, dipping his head in wordless thanks as he turns his meal again, "I've always been partial to them. Sunsets are impressive but lack the…"

"Magic?"

Hook chuckles, "Of course, majesty." He watches the sky above them, pure, somehow ancient and young all at once, "Pan certainly knows how to paint the morning. Nothing like a sunrise at _sea_, of course, but nothing is." The fondness is there again, as it always is when he speaks of the sea. It's a purer love, she supposes, free of his typical...glibness, she supposes is the appropriate word.

"I've never seen one."

"Not once? You never once terrorized some unlucky sailor? Penniless fisherman?"

She smirks, leaning a little closer, "Not at dawn."

The man chuckles at that, finally pulling the morsel away from the fire. He plucks at it idly before offering it to her. While the smell is halfway palatable, she does not doubt that in life it had been some sort of rodent. She is hungry but not yet to that point, gently shakes her head to decline. The two sit in a companionable sort of silence, Hook plucking idly at his dinner.

"I'll show you," he says finally.

"What?"

"Sunrise, love, a proper one at sea. Providing we both survive this little escapade."

"Careful, Captain, you're in danger of sounding halfway civil," Regina makes another motion at the fire, pulling it nearer, the warmth somehow need now. She tilts her head, regarding him through narrowed eyes, "I can't think of a reason I'd remain on your ship so long."

Hook leans in near enough for her to feel the heat of his breath against her lips, the blue eyes twinkling with undeniable mischief as he gauges her reactions, "Then I dare say you lack for imagination, majesty." She opens her mouth to retort only for him to cut her off, turning his attention back to his food, "Later. After that sharp tongue of yours has had a rest." He nods towards her bed, "Rest, love."

"This isn't over."

He smirks, looking genuinely amused, "I'd be disappointed if it was, majesty."

For a moment, she believes he genuinely means that.


End file.
